


rus/can/ame PWP

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Threesome, based on art, blowjob, double blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-16
Updated: 2011-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:51:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(I really cannot be bothered to come up with a title for this.) Threesome!</p>
            </blockquote>





	rus/can/ame PWP

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](http://i.imgur.com/6OLce.png) picture.

Ivan shoves the bedroom door open with a resounding creak, and though for a brief second his thoughts upon seeing the large bed are of _sleep_ , he knows the two following up behind him have other ideas. As he stumbles in they’re talking behind him in playful and half-hushed voices which he _could_ hear if he wanted, but he doesn’t want to, instead tunes them out on purpose. Mm. He doesn’t want to know, because he can tell: with voices like that, soft and conspiratorial, they wouldn’t want him to know.

At least, not yet.

He leads to the bed, sprawling forward when he hits the edge of the mattress. He’d yawn but Alfred leans over his fallen body and devours him in a kiss — briefly, before Matthew comes in with a breathy laugh and drags his brother away. “Not,” he tries, unsure, “not _yet_ ,” and then Alfred laughs too.

It’s _nice_ , Ivan thinks, this thing they have. Him and the two, which is… three. Three, but sometimes they’re not quite one-and-one, it’s more — two-as-one plus him, which is… something — perhaps he’s not quite drunk enough for this line of thought. They just _are_.The brothers are out of his reach again, talking to each other, and Ivan watches. Alfred gestures wildly, Matthew just, ah, smiles a lot. He thinks he understands the general gist of their plan; it’s rather obvious anyway. Not that he protests! But the waiting on details is getting to him a bit, so he decides to _save time_ and work himself out of his clothes.

By the time he’s just about to tug his briefs down and away Alfred is suddenly present, pressing him backwards along the bed with an insistent barrage of forceful kisses up his torso; Ivan has no choice, really, but to scoot back a ways to accomodate the action… again and again, until he’s hit the headboard. He raises an eyebrow.

“You could have asked me to move,” he assures Alfred, who’s now kneading slow circles on his shoulders, “I do listen.”

“Yeah, _sometimes_ ,” Alfred teases before looking back to Matthew. “We just about ready?”

Matthew nods, then inches too-slow along the mattress towards the two of them. When he gets to just about where Alfred is but on Ivan’s other side, he reaches across and removes his brother’s glasses. There’s a soft _click_ and presumably they go somewhere safe but now Matthew’s shimmying his torso towards Alfred’s, and Ivan’s. Distracted, somewhat.

He’s — allowed to be distracted, he is, and he doesn’t know anyone who wouldn’t be; Matthew moves his hands under the hem of Alfred’s shirt and moves up along the skin, so that Alfred inhales sharply, and then the shirt is going up and away. Alfred reciprocates soon enough, and in time the clothed bits of his boyfriends slowly give way to bare flesh. And any reservations peel away with the fabric, so that by the time they’re both fully nude, kneeling on either side of Ivan’s legs, they’re pressed against each other, kissing, rubbing.

Ivan feels a bit lethargic, or maybe it’s just indulgence: he doesn’t want to move yet, thinks it’s okay if he lies still a while yet. Watching. He’s… alright with that, he is, because he can tell enough of their whispered plans to know it’ll be _him_ later. So right now it’s _them_.

The two do as much as they can in their position, which is admittedly not too much with Ivan’s legs between them, but their fingers move along skin and muscle as they surge towards and against each other, connected by mouth and tongue, and — Ivan isn’t sure what sparks the change, but he reaches his hands out, searching.

“Ah.” There: he works his fingers in, more, deeper. Alfred cries out in wordless moans and angles himself down onto Ivan’s hand; Matthew does much the same, but bounces a little, and calls his name, “Ivan—”

It makes him smile wide the way the two try to keep their kiss even as they both shamelessly rock down onto his fingers. It’s a sloppy parody of what it started as, and yet it’s just as good, isn’t it? So he’s back to watching again, aware of but still ignoring the heavy swell of his own arousal, as the brothers buck and thrust and, finally, manage to stabilize and reconnect. They’re _kissing_ , over him and for him, and it makes his heart swell with affection.

And something _else_ , something that makes him lick his lips, and makes him fully expect the way they simultaneously break off to swivel towards him with flushed faces and mirrored grins —

— so he finds out what they had been planning. Matthew goes down first, touching him with only the tip of his tongue which isn’t enough and Ivan whines for more. But instead of Matthew taking him all in, like he expects, Alfred’s lips descend and wrap around his head, which is… better. Really.

Yes.

The brothers move in… not in tandem; Alfred’s faster and more rough while Matthew carefully takes time, but they move in a rhythm. It’s uneven and overwhelming but that’s why it’s _good_ , that’s what Ivan likes as he gasps out for the two of them. They find a rhythm, and it works.


End file.
